Captive Babies

Today has definitely been one of those days. The only real reason I'm writing this is to try to get my mind off of the torture chamber like noises coming from my nine month old captives upstairs. I'm apparently holding them hostage in their cribs, or at least that's how they view it. Apparently 9 month olds are too cool to nap, or so they are trying to convince me of that today.

So here I am giving them tough love, making them stay in their cribs, staring at the video monitor that I have a love/hate relationship with. Yes it is nice to see what my prisoners are up to and ensure they aren't plotting against me, but other times I think I'd be better off just thinking if it's quiet, they are asleep. We have two cameras, one on each crib, and I usually keep the monitor on scan between each camera. So I lay the girls down for their naps, listen to their loud protests, and go about my business. Just when it is quiet in there and I think the coast is clear (thank you Scooby Doo for making me talk this way) I look in the monitor and usually it goes like this: Camera 1....sleeping baby....seemingly long pause as the camera scans and I finish my "Please let the other baby be sleeping" prayer.....Camera 2....baby in corner sitting up trying to whittle or do some other thing with her hands at the same time she is trying to do the Cupid Shuffle while sitting down. So close!!! Ahhh the life of living with more than one baby! Who knows, one day maybe I'll go get them from their nap and one will have made a tiny ship in a bottle or come up with a new dance we can all do drunk at wedding receptions. Because yes, I drink.

My baby knows Calculus....

Well I'm about as good at keeping up with this blog as I am with having boys...I suck at it!

I've never been much of a "baby comparer" but especially now that I have two, one minute apart, the whole competitive nature of parents to do this just baffles me even more. I'm reminded every day that each baby is very different. I have one who is perfectly content playing with a piece of carpet for 20 minutes and another who crawls around the house completing her job as a Babyproof Inspector. I didn't have two babies on purpose to try to get a better chance of one of them doing something before somebody else's baby. When I gave birth to my children I didn't realize I automatically entered myself into a contest to see if they would crawl before others their age, get teeth first, or weigh more or less than others. Had I known that I would have kept the twin pregnancy a secret. I would have just told everybody about one of them and kept the other as a stand in as needed when the competition got tough. "Carlos...meet me at Chick-Fil-A and bring the baby with four teeth."

I do think it is great that people are proud of their kids for reaching certain milestones, or that their 5 day old knows sign language, but that doesn't need to involve a comparison to my kids. Because afterall, my kids are the best out there and there really is no comparison. :)

Rustling monkey dust

Whoever came up with the phrase "blowing raspberries" is probably the same person who claims to like the smell of their baby's poo. First of all I don't even know what blowing raspberries even means, and secondly, the truth is, they are just spitting on themselves. Is it cute? Yes, in a my kid knows how to do something new kinda way, but I will NEVER, ever, call it blowing raspberries. In fact I may coin a new phrase for it like "rustling monkey dust." It makes just as much sense as blowing raspberries which is none. So with that being said...my girls have taken to rustling monkey dust like I've never seen. They have rustle monkey dust-offs to see who can get the most dust, aka spit, on themselves. They are also rolling over and starting to break dance which is always entertaining to watch. Before I know it they will be using their formula cans to collect money as street performers. Come to think of it Madison actually never rustled monkey dust. I don't think she liked the old name for it either. Maybe she will feel different about the new one.

Finally, a purpose for Walmart

Up until the past two weeks my girls were up for pretty much going anywhere and doing anything. Now all of a sudden they have decided against going out in public. They would rather stay in the comfort of their own home with the three people they know best. If I let this continue I'm convinced I'll raise them to be either a "gamer" who lives in our basement (which we don't have here in Houston) until they are 45, or to be antisocial well on their way to bad behavior.

Our first taste of their protest of the public was at an outdoor concert we go every Sunday in the spring. Madison loves it and I felt she really needed some time to do non baby related things. Well the babies had another agenda. They decided they would scream until we agreed to take them back to the comfort of their own home. So the next day, still trying to get Madison a dose of regular childhood, I decided to take her to the YMCA to do a Kids and Fitness class where pretty much the kids just run around and act their age. One again, a no go with the babies. This time it was particularly challenging because I was by myself. I tried to walk around with them...nothing. Feed them...nothing, and I know some of you haven't seen me for awhile but I still only have two arms. Holding both of them wasn't an option. So....then they came, the swarm of onlookers who apparently held degrees in diagnosing why other people's babies are crying. "Maybe they are hungry." "Oh do they want to go outside?" and my favorite was said to Peyton while I was holding Cameron..."Awww you just want held like your sister is being held." I agree. She should have held her. So after 25 minutes of trying to get them to settle down, I went and broke the news to Madison that once again, we were headed back to the baby haven. Her reply made me smile..."That's ok...I didn't like that class anyway." I thought the worst was over but I was completely wrong. Right when I got to my car the lady parked next to me was walking to hers as well. I told her to go ahead and get in first but she insisted she was in no hurry. So there I was, trying to pack up my stroller, two screaming 4 month olds, and a 5 year old crying because there was a bug in the car, while this lady continued to question why the girls were crying. Her final words to me were..."My son has twins." That is when it happened. A little unfiltered Lisa came out. I responded with..."You know you should probably go help him then. I guarantee you he needs it." That's the last I heard of her.

So with all this being said, my next decision wasn't IF I was going to take the girls out anymore, it was where do I take them to break them into society. I thought the library would be nice, no startling noises, but that could backfire quickly to two screaming babies making a huge scene. Then it hit me, the place that owed me a few sessions of my own kids screaming without regard to anybody elses sanity. Walmart. It worked like a charm. They both got a little upset from time to time, nobody noticed because their kids were busy knocking over cereal boxes, and my girls got a small dose of what real society is.

Sock Fonts

Carlos can attest to the fact that I've been fed up with sock fonts for quite sometime...even before we had any kids. Well as you can imagine now there are a lot of socks of different shapes, sizes, color, and yes, fonts, floating around my house. First of all, socks should only come in black, white, and brown, and no text is necessary. I'd like to thank Hanes for not only adding text to socks but also changing the font of the text every now and then to make my job of sock sorter even more difficult. I don't know if it is a marketing thing or what but I really don't remember the last time somebody looked at my socks and said..."Hey those are some sweet socks..are they Hanes?" I guess if it happened I could take my shoe off, show them the bottom of my foot and reply..."Why yes they are, thanks for asking!" I was able to get over the fact that I was walking around with useless writing on the bottom of my foot but when they started coming out with what is the equivalent to "Times New Roman Bold 12 socks" in my mind...now come on. Maybe I'll change my mind when they come out with Wingding socks or add clip art to them. Until then...back to sock sorting.

Special Agent Little Tykes

Home owners association...I think there are two words we really need to focus on here: HOME OWNER! I own the home so I think I should have final say on most things pertaining to my home. I'm ok with a handful of rules that keep the neighborhood pleasant like, make sure you don't have chickens or goats in the front yard, keep the lawn up so you don't have any gigantic weeds saying "Feed Me Seymor", and don't blast your 2 Pac album at 3am (Yes Carlos still has his). So crazy me thought, maybe next weekend we'll buy Madison and the girls a play set for the backyard. Whoa...wait a minute. It isn't that easy! We first are expected to go through a ridiculous approval process with our home owners association allowing us to put it up in our FENCED backyard. The process is this: fill out an application, send them a survey of the yard, a bill of materials for the playset, the dimensions of the playset, and the location on the survey of the backyard where it will be located. To make it even easier on us "home owners", they only do approvals twice a month. Yeah, well no. We aren't doing it. Remember I am the rebel who ate lunch meat throughout my pregnancies, probably while I was getting my hair highlighted, so these actions shouldn't come as a shock. The playset won't be bothering anybody and if it doesn't fit their precious requirements, if and when they see it, they can take it down. But not before they remove the 3 crying kids from it, prying their little fingers off of the swings. In fact I hope they come to talk to me about it. I would love to have a conversation with the "Playset Police" who I picture looking like the agents on The Matrix. It's almost worth the $75 to buy the aluminum kind that "tips" and just put it right in my front yard to lure the agents to my house. I'm eager to hear all about the training they've received to be able to make such crucial decisions on if a playset is fit enough for my subdivision.

I'm glad the twins don't cry that much anymore so we can't be found out. I didn't get approval for them either.

Baby Imposter

Apparently the YMCA has had a run in with a baby imposter that they haven't gone public with yet. I made my first trip back to the gym today with the babies (yes got EVERY stupid question/comment I complain about when it comes to twins). Now not only do they require the girls to have their own cards with the bar codes on them (One per family isn't enough apparently....now we have 5!) they also had to get their pictures taken...both of them. The VERY smart lady at the front desk didn't like the idea of me having Peyton pose for both pictures. I thought, who better than her identical twin sister to prevent me from having to wake up and unstrap Cameron for her picture? I have to admit, after she took Peyton's picture I was tempted to duck her down beneath the desk and pull her right back up as "Cameron." Would the smart lady really argue with me about identity of my own child? The answer is yes she would have. I was kind of in a hurry trying to get home to feed them but no, lets not underestimate the possibility and importance of a baby trying to sneak into the YMCA. I get it though...I really do understand the necessity of photographing a gym member whose physical appearance will change more this year than any other year of her life. I'm glad the YMCA apparently invested in age progression software that will automatically update the photo to make sure these meddling kids don't continue their attempt to take over the gym. I can't tell you how many times I've had to wait on a 3 month old to get off of the treadmill...they just have no consideration at that age.